


Freaking Tuesdays

by UnicornAndStucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Student Steve Rogers, detective bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornAndStucky/pseuds/UnicornAndStucky
Summary: Stevie Rogers and Bucky Barnes went to high school together. Bucky being this huge ladies' man, Stevie hated him and they never spoke much, even if he was secretly pinning for her. Years later, Stevie is in art school and Bucky is a big shot detective and they get set up on a blind date. Things get complicated from there.





	Freaking Tuesdays

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know this is a female/male relationship but it's that way for a reason so don't hate please :) It's my first fic and I'm kind of scared to post it but hey, what the hell. 
> 
> A big thanks to Lucidnancyboy for pushing me to write and helping me get it to this point! You can go and check out her fics that are truly genius

Who the hell invites someone on a first date on a Tuesday? What kind of day was that…? Tuesday is the day when the motivation that you get from the first day of the week is gone. Tuesdays are like that song that nobody knows in a concert, but that fill time until the big successful song is played. If Tuesdays had a color it would probably be between beige and grey, bland and kinda sad. Waking up on Tuesday usually felt like waking up to the worst day of the week. Going back home from college on a Tuesday meant a lot of reading and/or homework and no possibility of avoiding all of those things with a dance party... or any other distractions since  _ nothing _ amazing ever happened on Tuesdays. Tuesdays were the Nicolas Cage of the days of the week, useless and forgettable. They kept coming back even if nobody really liked them...Stevie hated Tuesdays (and Nicolas Cage). 

 

Which was exactly why she was sitting, alone in a weird asian fusion restaurant, her arms crossed with an unimpressed look on her face, waiting for the guy that Sam’s friend thought would like her. She took a sip of this weird coco-vodka drink with something she didn’t recognize in it and sighed as the bittersweet taste of it filled her mouth. How desperate did she have to be to wait here right now? Spoiler : A whole fucking lot. Ever since her break up with Brock Rumlow five years ago, Stevie had been alone. See, the guy had been such an ass… and calling him an ass was nice at this point. In only one short year, he had managed to turn Stevie into a ghost of herself that submitted to whatever he put her through. 

 

And the worst part was that she never saw it happening until one day, when she woke up covered in bruises. That had been the tipping point. She’d felt so ashamed and miserable that she had decided on that day that never again would she let an asshole get into her head like that. More than that, she had vowed then that never again would she fall into a relationship, for fear that it would always be just as toxic. She could handle being alone. Underneath all that Brock told her and made her feel, she knew deep inside that she could be strong and independant. 

 

So for five years she was. Everything was just fine, she felt happy enough, except that it was getting lonely. She was starting to miss having strong manly arms around her at night. She missed having someone that cared for her, but also having someone to care for, to be close to… To take showers and bubble baths with, to cuddle close enough that she’d feel all those warm muscles sliding around her… ok who was she kidding, she missed sex, god she missed sex.

 

Which was probably the only real reason she was sitting in this booth alone on a  _ fucking Tuesday _ .

As she sipped her drink and felt the vodka burning inside her throat, she heard her phone vibrate. She was the type to close her phone and wait patiently for the guy to show up, or at least that’s how she wanted to act, but since this was her first date in 5 years, she couldn't really tell if that was her type or not. So she was faced with a tough choice. Either she was that girl, alone in a bar and staring at her phone, or she was this girl that looked around to socialize with other human beings. See, she wanted to be this great girl, a catch that would make any guy swoon, but maybe 5 years of celibacy had turned her into this terrible girl that didn’t match her own standards… Maybe she now was the pathetic texting girl in the bar... As if life was trying to prove a point, she felt her phone vibrate and instantly took it out of her pocket and looked Sam’s name on the screen. With her straw still between her carefully lipsticked lips, she unlocked it and read through it. Maybe she was just as bad as any other single girl out there, attached to her phone like an asthmatic to her inhaler.

 

_ He just left his place. He’s on his way and very sorry for the delay. -SW _

 

She huffed out a little resignated laugh and unlocked the phone to answer Sam. Good, kind hearted Sam, who was so obviously more into this date than she was. 

 

_ Yeah yeah whatever you know it won't stick anyway so why bother -SR _

 

She hit send, knowing that this kind of arrogance only existed to hide how fucking petrified she was to get attached to someone. But Sam didn’t need to know that. He didn't need to know about how she hadn't slept last night because her anxiety was clawing at her heart, and she most certainly didn't tell him about how she almost didn't get off her customized Harley when she got to the restaurant. She was getting very good at hiding her deep fear of commitment...but of course he knew…he’d been her best friend forever and he had this magical power to always know whatever the hell was going on in her head. So she wasn't at all surprised when all she got for an answer was: 

 

_ Girl he's something else. And I know what you like so behave _ . - _ SW _

 

She read the text and sighed, trying to go for more coco-goodness but ended up sucking in the little piece of ice at the bottom. She could have waved at the waitress to get another one, but she really prefered sinking into her chair and sulking, thinking about how nothing exciting ever happened on fucking Tuesday nights.

 

*****

 

Bucky had been running all day long, between this huge break they’d had on the Russian mob task force and the case he’d had to present in court, he didn’t even get the time to think about the mysterious blond that Natasha had set him up with and before he knew it, he was already 20 minutes late. He’d texted Natasha to tell her, before running home and changing his shirt, not even bothering to put away his badge or his gun that still hung loose on his belt. From what he had gathered, the girl was blond and pretty, and probably his type, but that had been all the details she’d given him. Natasha had kept him in the dark and really, it was never a good thing when that girl got cryptic. That and his detective skills were how he guessed that he probably knew the girl already but he didn’t give that thought much more attention since he probably wouldn’t be seeing that one again either, like the last three girls he had been set up with. 

 

See, none of them understood how the most important thing to him was his job. Girls seemed to think that dating him made them more important that the rapidly increasing crime rate in New York City. So, whenever he’d tried to make plans to see one of them again, and suddenly something else had come up, his date never seemed to understand his priorities. 

 

Whatever. For tonight, he needed the distraction. Work was slowly starting to overtake his personal life. He had this feeling that he was gonna get sucked into this big Mafia case, and as much as he loved fighting for the law, he was still just a man who needed to socialize with people that talked about anything but drugs and Russian mobsters. Blind dates helped him with that at least.

 

When he arrived in front of the restaurant, standing in before the freshly cleaned glass door, he looked at his reflexion. His hair cut to the perfect length, his shirt tight enough to look sexy but not so tight that it looked douchy. Sure he could have used an extra minute or two to look even better, but this was only a first date with some random girl and he didn’t feel like putting too much effort into it. Worst case scenario, the girl would throw a drink at him, forcing him to go home early, where he'd watch an episode of CSI Miami, laughing his ass off how bad they portrayed police work, and go to bed alone. That didn’t scare him so much. After all, he saw a lot worst being thrown at him than a drink during office hours; like that time last week a perp had literally thrown a  _ fish bowl _ . What the hell… Sure, the guy was a weirdo and all, but a fish bowl?! With a fish in it! Let’s just say, that as long as the girl didn’t throw him anything alive, he’d be fine.

 

So, feeling confident, he stepped into the small restaurant and instantly spotted a blond girl that was sitting alone, facing the other way. Bingo. As he got closer, he felt something stir in his stomach. He knew that exact shade of blond, but he couldn’t place it… The way her fingers hung onto her pen, absentmindedly drawing something on a napkin. He knew those movements, he knew he had seen her delicately tuck her hair back before, which is what worried him because there was only a handful of girls he had ever observed long enough to know their movements like that. He took a slow step forward and ended up right beside her, looking at her profile. 

 

And then he heard her voice, softly singing some song he knew was from probably from the 40’s if he was right… It sounded a lot like  _ That old Black Magic…  _

 

_ “ _ _ Yes I'm in a spin, I'm loving the spin I'm in… I'm under that old black magic called love…” _

 

That’s what the mystery (not so mysterious anymore) girl murmured with a soft and mellow voice, and it clicked in his head... There was only one girl that had sang old classics like she belonged to another decade. Only one that could made a thick Brooklyn accent sound so good in those forties songs, only one that had made him smile so easily.

 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he whispered with a sly grin and a pair of surprised eyes, looking right at  _ Stevie Rogers _ . 

 

He could still see her, running around in the bleachers with a different petition under her arm every week, defending the undefendable, standing up for whatever she’d felt was unfair at Red Hook High, which to her, was almost everything. He remembered watching her shoulder length blond hair bouncing up and down as she’d fought with her tiny fists for kids who couldn’t do anything for themselves. He even suddenly remembered the scent of her shampoo. Every one of their English classes for an entire year had been scheduled right after P.E. class and they had spent most of the year swimming. So every class, he’d get a whiff of that strawberry shampoo and he remember exactly how it had brightened up his day every time. He’d been sitting right behind her for the entire year, and he could proudly say that nothing ever distracted him from observing how she acted, how she moved, how she smiled… Except maybe Nancy, his girlfriend at the time who kept hiding sexy memo’s in his pencil case… Or was it Tara? Or was that the time he’d juggled between those two girls? Okay he might have to admit that girls were his weakness at the time, but now he knew better. Of course he did, he had grown up and became a detective. He’d decided after graduation that he was done with the whole “Ladies man” vibe.

 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t flirt, and with Stevie Rogers right in front of him, looking both beautiful and angry (she always looked a little angry), he couldn’t help but give her the best, classic Barnes’ charming grin. Only she didn’t even look at him long enough for it to have the full effect he wanted. Just like that, she was up and walking right back to the door, mumbling something that sounded a lot like swear words with “Nope” in between. 

 

“Hey now, that’s not fair! Wait!” he called out to her, but she looked seton leaving. He almost followed her, he wanted to follow her, but then he turned back and looked at the table and his grin turned smug. There was a phone right between an empty glass and a napkin with a doodle of the waitress on it. So he sat down and ordered the weirdest drink he could find (who the hell puts litchi, coconut and vodka together?), waiting patiently for her to come back.

 

***

James Barnes.

James  _ fucking _ Barnes.

She knew exactly who he was.  

She remembered him perfectly from Red Hook High, the guy that had slept with every girl that moved. She had memories of him walking around like he’d owned the place, not a care in the world for any of the other teenagers that had been trying to make it through life in high school. She remembered Tara, Jennifer and Samantha, all heartbroken because he’d decided he prefered Monica that week. God she  _ hated _ guys like him and the way they had to just ruin any type of girl the lay their slutty hands on. For an entire year, she had been forced to endure him looking over her shoulder, trying to get some reaction out of her. For  _ an entire year _ , she’d felt her neck prickle with his eyes always on her, and she’d known that if she’d so much as looked at him, he would have taken it for an invitation. No thank you. James Barnes was the kind of guy she didn’t want in her life. After Brock, he was now officially the last person she wanted to see. 

 

Okay, maybe she was being a little dramatic. And maybe, just maybe, she was purposefully forgetting about how he’d always signed her petitions even if she’d never asked him, or how he had given her his textbook that day that she’d gotten pushed around so much that her entire school bag had emptied itself in the middle of a particularly deep puddle. But those things didn’t matter. James Barnes was a jerk and she didn’t need a jerk in her life. She was about to call Sam, yell at him about how fucking brilliant it was to set her up with a womanizing jerk, but when she reached for her device into the pockets of her leather jacket, she sighed, completely done with whatever game the universe was playing at with her. 

 

Great, now she had to go back and pick her stupid phone that she had left on the stupid table in the stupid restaurant. Fucking Tuesday… By now she could have been deep into her 12th episode of  _ The bitch in apartment 23 _ (Oh yeah, she completely embraced her love of that show) with her sweat pants and some pop corn, under her soft blanket. But no, she had to deal with  _ James Fucking Barnes _ .

 

As she resigned herself to the reality, she turned around and walked back in, determined to stay calm. She didn’t fight anymore with her fists, she’d grown out of it eventually, but that sure as hell didn’t mean she didn’t want to right now. Once she looked up to what used to be her table, she felt her blood start boiling. There he was, sitting with his smug grin, holding _ her  _ phone and looking at his drink with those gorgeous eyes of his. Wait what? No time to dwell on that thought, she had a phone to rescue. She walked up to him, determined. 

“Give me my phone,” she barked to him, not even bothering to say hi or anything. Any kind of niceness could be misinterpreted by that guy...

Bucky only smiled even brighter, clearly amused by her anger. “Hey there Miss Rogers, Wha-” 

“I’m gonna stop you right there, I’m here to get my phone back and then leave again.” Holding her hand in front of her, waiting for her phone and desperately hoping that he’d just give up already. But of course, the gesture seemed to have the opposite impact. He only stood up, his stupid smile making his eyes seem even brighter. 

“No, you’re gonna hang out for one hour with me, and then I’ll give it back.” He looked so smug, having something to hold over her head like that… over confident that he could win her over somehow. The worst thing was,  she actually felt her cheeks blush like traitors. How the hell did she let this happen? She was actually curious as to what he had planned. Damn her and her long living weakness for jerks...  

“You think this is a joke? I’m not wasting an hour with you. Please give me my phone right now,” she said with spite, clearly making it look like she wasn’t impressed. She might have felt a little curious but this could all be caused by her loneliness. His stupid charms wouldn’t get the best of her that easily...

“Nah, I’d rather go with my thing. One hour, that’s all I ask. You obviously have a perception of me that is terrible and I earned it…” At this point, she felt him lean into her space and look at her with a smirk. She could tell it was one of his usual plays to make girls swoon, and it didn’t work. Nope, it really didn’t work  _ at all _ . “...but I also want the chance to prove you wrong, just like you proved Mrs. Wanton wrong when she told you that a petition couldn’t get her fired it 9th grade.”

Stevie’s mask slipped and for a moment, she actually displayed her real emotion. Pure confusion mixed in with a little pride. She probably wasn’t even aware of the tiniest of smiles that appeared on her lips. “You weren’t even in that class… How the hell do you know that?” she asked, a little less defensive. She could swear right then that she saw smugness all over his face. Dammit, that wasn’t her plan at all. 

“Cause you were a tough girl, and I always found that interesting enough,” Bucky murmured with a wink. He turned around and walked out the restaurant, holding her phone in the air.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So if you like it, I'd love to read your comments to help me improve :) Thanks for reading!


End file.
